The Day the Clown Cried
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: "Everyone has seen the Joker laugh. Harley is the only one who has seen him cry." And here's the story of why. Thanks to blackcat9517 for the suggestion, and for SazzyWesty for the (mini) Riddler/Joker war ;-)
1. Chapter 1

**The Day the Clown Cried**

"Is there any reason Mr. Nygma can't deliver this to the Joker personally once he's released from the hospital?" sighed Jonathan Crane, tapping the sealed envelope against the door to the Joker's hideout while Jervis Tetch leaned on the doorbell.

"It's my understanding that they are not on speaking terms since the Joker told Hush where Mr. Nygma was hiding out, which instigated his most recent trip to the emergency room," replied Tetch, trying to peer through the window to see if Joker was even home. The lights were out inside, which made the surmise unlikely, but he didn't want to come all this way again. When Crane and Tetch had visited the Riddler in the hospital, he had given them that sealed envelope and asked them to personally deliver it into the Joker's hands without delay. "Anyway, I imagine Mr. Nygma will be taken back to Arkham once he's fighting fit, whenever that may be."

"Yes, he looked ghastly, didn't he?" said Crane. "I must have a word with Mr. Elliot."

"Has he ever respected you?" asked Tetch. "Or did he just use you to write him a clean bill of health and get him out of psychiatric care when he was a boy?"

Crane was silent. "Well, one can still respect someone for being useful," he sniffed. "Anyway, someone has to talk to him. There's no excuse for his behavior toward Mr. Nygma. Brutal aggression is all very well when directed at the population at large, but there's just something wrong about directing it toward one's fellow lunatics. If we worked together more, perhaps we'd even have a chance in defeating Batman one day."

"You mean assuming we can all put aside our petty rivalries for the greater good?" asked Tetch. "Not a chance. I've heard a lot of nonsense in my time, but the idea that we could all stand together and united against Batman is the most ludicrous one yet."

He sighed. "Apparently he's not in. We'll just have to come back later…"

The door flew open at that moment, and Harley Quinn stood in the doorway, flushed and breathing heavily. She was wearing nothing but a short, white, babydoll lingerie set which left very little to the imagination. Her blonde hair was done up in pigtails and she dangled a teddy bear on the ground from one hand, a lollipop stuck between her lips, which she popped out, smiling at them.

"Hi, Johnny, Jervis, what brings you here?" she asked. "Sorry it took so long to answer the door – Mr. J and I were just in the middle of…something."

"Yes, I…I can see that," stammered Tetch. Crane just stared at her, open-mouthed. "Um…we actually have something important we need to deliver to the Joker personally…"

"Oh, sure," said Harley, holding open the door. "Why doncha boys come on inside?" she asked innocently, slowly licking up the lollipop.

"Oh…my…God…I have to go," gasped Crane suddenly, forcing his eyes off Harley, shoving the envelope at Tetch, and hurrying away.

"Huh. Wonder what his problem is," said Harley, shrugging and continuing to suck on the lollipop as Tetch followed her into the hideout. "Mr. J! We got company! Jervis is here!"

"Tell him to get lost, pooh, Daddy ain't in the mood for any company aside from his Harley baby!" shouted Joker from the bedroom. "And she needs to get her naughty little backside back in here right now so Daddy can give her a nice, hard spanking."

"Oh, Mr. J!" she purred. "He said it's important, though, puddin', and he needs to give it to you personally…"

"The only thing Daddy needs is for you to personally give him your little lips around his lollipop, and I ain't talking about the one you're sucking on right now!"

"Oh, Daddy, you know your baby girl loves it when you talk like that!" cooed Harley.

"Then my baby girl needs to come show Daddy how much she loves him by coming back to bed and bringing her vibrating teddy bear with her," growled Joker.

Harley squeaked happily. "Do you mind waiting while we finish up, Jervis?" she asked, turning to him with sparkling eyes.

"Yes," he replied, firmly. "Just go fetch him."

Harley whined in disappointment but obeyed, dragging the Joker out of the bedroom a second later, wearing a purple bathrobe. "Yeah, thanks, beat it," he said, grabbing the envelope from him and shoving him toward the door.

"It's from Nygma…" began Tetch, but Joker slammed the door in his face. "And don't _you_ ever, ever call me a pedophile again!" shouted Tetch at the closed door, muttering in annoyance to himself as he strode off.

"Ain't you gonna see what's in the envelope, puddin'?" sighed Harley a few hours later as she lay happily cuddled in the Joker's arms while he smoked a cigar.

"If it's from Nygma, it's probably some kinda death threat in the form of a riddle," chuckled Joker. "Not sure I even feel like making the effort of reading his pathetic attempts at being scary."

"I can read it to ya, puddin'," volunteered Harley, sitting up and opening the envelope. She unfolded the piece of paper inside and read aloud. "Wayne Tower is high and mighty and tall. But on top of the roof, the writing's on the wall. It's time for the Bat to have a great fall."

Joker snorted, inhaling from his cigar. "Bunch of gibberish, as usual," he sighed. "I never liked riddles. Too much work to figure 'em out. My jokes are elegant in their simplicity. You see them, you get them, you laugh – end of joke. But this could mean anything!"

"I think it means he's written something important on the roof of Wayne Tower," said Harley, re-reading the message. "Something to do with Bats, I guess. Although considering how mad he is at you at the moment, I think it's probably a trap."

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Joker, leaping out of bed and pulling on his suit. "I love traps!"

"I meant a trap for you, puddin'," said Harley, smiling.

"I know. Really thoughtful of Eddie to go through all the effort of making a whole trap just for little old me!" he chuckled. "Anyway, the fun's in the trap itself, whether you're setting it up or figuring out how to get outta it. Exercises both the mind and the body either way."

"Well, hurry home so your Harley girl can give your body another good workout," said Harley, tying his bowtie for him and then giving it a playful tweak.

"Might wanna be wearing the naughty schoolgirl outfit later, kiddo," he growled, kissing her. "I don't think Daddy's little Harley has learned her lesson about being a bad girl yet."

"Nah uh, puddin'," she agreed, beaming. "I'll find the paddle."

Harley spent the rest of the day cleaning the hideout, whistling happily as she thought about later that night. Evening came and Harley dressed in the requested costume, then climbed onto the bed, holding the paddle suggestively between her legs. It grew later and later, but Mr. J didn't come back. Harley began to worry – if it had been a trap, maybe Mr. J was hurt. Maybe he was lying helpless somewhere, bleeding and wounded, and needing his Harley girl to save him. Maybe…

But the door opened at that moment and she heard slow, heavy footsteps making their way toward the bedroom. Harley resumed her smile and repositioned herself. "I got such a bad report card, Daddy, and I hope you won't punish me too hard…" she began, but her smile fell when she saw the Joker's face.

He wasn't smiling. In fact, she had never seen him look more miserable. His shoulders were slumped as he entered the room, and his eyes looked as if someone had suddenly sucked the life out of them. He sat down heavily on the bed, staring into the middle distance, and Harley cuddled against his back. "Puddin'?" she asked, concerned. "You ok?"

He didn't respond, just stared straight ahead. "Puddin'?" she repeated. "Did something go wrong with the trap…"

"It wasn't a trap," he murmured, in a low voice.

"Oh. What was it?" she asked, puzzled.

"It was writing," he murmured. "Writing on the wall."

"What did it say, puddin'?" she asked. She couldn't imagine any writing could affect Mr. J this much – after all, people had written lots of horrible things about him before. She had read his patient file at Arkham before she had analyzed him. And Mr. J wasn't the type to take insults to heart.

"Puddin'?" she pressed.

"I just wanna go to bed, Harley," he murmured, lying down on the bed with his clothes still on and rolling away from her. "I just wanna sleep."

Harley was beyond worried now, more worried than she would have been if Mr. J was still missing. She had never seen him so deflated, so depressed, so unhappy. She snuggled against him, kissing the back of his neck tenderly. "You can't tell your Harley girl what's wrong?" she asked. "I wanna help, puddin'…"

"You can't help," he murmured. "No one can help me now. I can't just forget about it, after all."

"Forget about what, puddin'?" she asked.

He didn't respond, and he didn't move. Harley wrapped her arms around him and held him for what seemed like hours, until she felt herself about to drift off to sleep.

And then she heard a strange sound, a sound that made her eyes shoot open in astonishment. "Puddin'?" she gasped. He didn't move, but the noise continued, and Harley sat up in a panic, flicking on the bedside lamp and rolling him over to face her.

She couldn't have been more shocked or horrified when she saw tears running down the Joker's face. He was crying. The Joker was crying.

He sniffed again, which had been the noise Harley had heard, and then suddenly seized her around the waist, burying his face in her stomach. "Harley," he said, somewhere in between a sob and a moan. "Harley, it's all over!"

"What's all over, puddin'?" gasped Harley, stroking his hair back tenderly and trying to soothe him.

"The joke," he whispered. "The best joke in the world, the only joke worth living for. He wrote the punchline, Harley, and now the joke's over forever! He…he ruined it!"

"What did he ruin, puddin'?" whispered Harley. "What did he write?"

He raised his tear-stained face up to look at her and whispered, "Batman's secret identity."


	2. Chapter 2

Joker didn't say anything else for the rest of the night. Harley kept asking him questions, but he refused to respond. And he didn't sleep. He just lay there, cuddled against Harley, tears trickling down his face.

Morning came, and still Joker didn't move. And so neither did Harley. She never stopped holding onto him.

"You want me to go make breakfast, puddin'?" she asked when she heard his stomach rumbling.

"You can go if you wanna," he murmured.

"I don't wanna," she replied. "Not with you like this."

He sighed, shutting his eyes. "C'mon, puddin', talk to me," whispered Harley, stroking his hair back. "Why is this such a big deal?"

Annoyance flashed into his vacant eyes as he glared up at her. "Why is this a big deal?" he repeated. "You don't understand anything, do you, Harley?"

"I don't understand _this_," admitted Harley. "So you found out Batman's some guy. We always knew he had to be somebody, but now you got a name to put to the face to put to the mask. So what?"

"So what?" repeated Joker. "So what?!"

He sat up. "Harley, here's the joke," he said. "A clown and a man in a bat costume fight each other night after night. The clown does something bad, and the man in the bat costume has to stop him. Great set up, right?"

"Yeah, puddin'," agreed Harley.

"Now just imagine, for a moment, that I suddenly remembered my past," continued Joker. "Before I became the Joker. Imagine it explained all the craziness away – I'm into the jokes because I was a failed comedian. I'm psychotic because my pregnant wife died in a freak accident…"

"You didn't have a pregnant wife, did ya, puddin'?" interrupted Harley, concerned.

"This is a purely hypothetical situation, Harley," he snapped. "So anyway, imagine I am who I am because I had one very bad day. A nice, regular, ordinary guy pushed into madness and villainy by the absurdity and cruelty of the world."

"Ok," said Harley, nodding.

He looked at her. "Well?"

"Well…what?" asked Harley, confused.

"What aren't you doing?"

"Uh…I dunno, puddin'…"

"You ain't laughing!" he snapped. "The joke ain't funny anymore if you explain it like that! Oh, the clown's crazy because the world made him that way! The guy in a bat costume fights crime because the people he loved were murdered one night! It's understandable, relatable, and that ruins the humor! Or turns it into one of those 'I hear ya' standup routines that are never very funny – 'how about that Friday traffic, huh?' That ain't comedy – that's smalltalk! Well, nothing about _me _is small…"

"Ya got that right, puddin'," purred Harley, grinning.

"But now my routine's reduced to an understandable act!" continued Joker, ignoring her. "I get why he's Batman now! Or I will, once I spend a couple days stalking him. And that ruins it all, Harley. Just as it would ruin me if somebody came to me saying they could reveal my entire past. Backstories are all very well for books or movies and stuff, but for jokes? They're just dead weight, and they ruin it. They ruin the gag."

Harley didn't say anything. "Joke's over, Harley," he murmured, tears coming to his eyes again. "It ain't funny anymore. And you know what I gotta do when stuff ain't funny anymore."

Harley looked at him. "No, puddin', you don't have to…"

"Yeah, I do," he sighed, sitting up slowly. "I gotta kill the Bat. I mean, not the Bat – the guy who he is. Can't kill Batman, after all, he's got all his gadgets and everything, and he's a…superhero. This guy ain't…ain't anything but a man. A regular, boring, ordinary man with a past and a backstory and a reason for putting on a cape and fighting crime."

"Puddin', if you really killed Bats, you'd regret it," said Harley. "You know you would. You remember what you told me once? Without Batman, crime has no punchline…"

"Batman's already dead, Harley!" he interrupted. "Dead to me, anyway. Every time I look at him from now on, I'm just gonna see this guy looking back at me. And it won't be fun to play with him. It ain't fun to play with the regular citizens of Gotham, after all. It's only fun to kill them."

"Why doncha get revenge on Eddie Nygma instead?" asked Harley. "C'mon, puddin', we could do something really horrible to him for this…"

"I already did," interrupted Joker. "I locked him in a coffin in the crematorium with two buttons. One button starts the conveyer belt and the furnace, and the other calls the police. I gave him a riddle to figure out which was which. Only the answer to the riddle is the one that sends him into the fire. It's actually the opposite button that'll save him. So his last thoughts will be realizing the joke's on him!"

He managed a laugh, but it was hollow and forced. He sighed. "Don't even find painful death gags funny anymore. Not when I've lost the best friend I'll ever have. And the only guy who made the game any fun. I dunno what I'm gonna do with my life, Harl, now that's crime's no fun."

"Well, we could always…leave Gotham and start a family somewhere," suggested Harley, brightening. "Someplace green in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and we could have two little Jokers, a girl and a boy, Arleen and J.J., and…"

"Harley, please, I'm being serious," he snapped.

"So was I, puddin'…" began Harley.

"I guess I'll always have to be serious from now on," sighed Joker, ignoring her. "With all the joy and fun taken outta life, what else is a guy to do? I don't even feel like smiling, Harley. Ain't that a gag? The Joker without his smile."

He forced another laugh, but stopped quickly, sighing again and lying back down on the bed. "I'll kill him later," he muttered, pulling the blankets over his face. "Right now I don't feel like getting up. It's the end, Harley. The end of smiles and laughter, the end of fun, the end of the Joker. And the end of Batman. Somehow I always knew we were gonna die together, but I always thought we'd die…y'know, violently. In a fight, on a rooftop, plunging together off the precipice locked in a death-embrace. Not like this. This wasn't how I wanted it to end. This ain't funny."

"Puddin', I don't think you…" began Harley.

"Just stop talking or go away," he snapped.

Harley looked at him, and then rose to go make breakfast. Or at least, that was her intention. She began to get up when she was suddenly seized around the waist and clasped in Joker's arms again. "Don't leave me!" he hissed. "Please don't leave me! I couldn't bear to lose another of my jokes - I'd go crazy, Harley! You wouldn't want me to go crazy, would you?"

He was kissing her desperately, clutching her tightly against him, tears in his eyes again. Harley held him and soothed him gently, kissing him return. "I won't leave you, puddin'," she whispered. "I won't ever leave you."

"I mean…you got a backstory, but it's funny, y'know?" he whispered. "It's funny. Beautiful, intelligent, successful career gal who throws her whole life away for some homicidal, psychotic, insane clown. That's…that's funny, Harley. You've always been my joke, and the only way to ruin that joke would be if you stopped throwing your life away for the clown. If you returned to being a successful career gal on your own, and didn't need the clown to make you happy anymore. That…that wouldn't be funny either, Harley."

"Well, it ain't gonna happen, puddin'," whispered Harley. "I'll always need my Mr. J to put a smile on my face. I couldn't be Harley Quinn without my Joker, could I?"

"You could, but it wouldn't be funny," he murmured. "Just like Batman's not…not funny anymore!"

He was crying again and Harley held him, shushing him and wishing there was something else she could do. It broke her heart to see him like this. Somebody had to pay for her puddin's pain. And if Eddie Nygma's pain wasn't enough to placate him, she guessed Batman would have to die.


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker waited on the rooftop across from Wayne Tower, aiming his sniper rifle toward the door. Waiting for Batman to come out.

Normally he would have objected to killing his nemesis in such a boring way as shooting him, but the joke was over now, so ending it quickly just seemed like the best option. And the least he could do for the guy, after all they had been through together. Better than some sort of final confrontation when he'd have to tell him the game was over, and shoot him in the face. Better that he didn't see it coming. It was an act of mercy, and for once in his life, Joker felt like being merciful.

"I understand, buddy," he murmured, looking through the scope at the door. "I get it now, why you do what you do. I still think you're crazy, but hey, aren't we all? And who's to say if our situations weren't reversed, I wouldn't have done the same?"

Harley had wanted to come with him, but he had refused. He wanted this last moment to be just between him and the Bat. He wanted to finish it as it began – the two of them together. He had also considered killing himself after he killed Batman, and he didn't want Harley to get in the way of that if he decided to do it. It's not like he had anything else left to live for. Or maybe he would get Harley to do it. Make the kid prove she really loved him by killing him if he asked her to. Or maybe they could have some sorta murder-suicide pact – he knew that was what Harley had always wanted. Well, aside from the whole suburban life with kids, but he'd be damned before he let her have that.

"Why would I wanna bring kids into a world without Batman?" he muttered to himself. "A world without fun and jokes and laughter…that ain't any kinda place for a kid. Ain't any kinda place for anyone."

The door opened and a figure emerged. Joker smiled. "I'm doing this for you, pal," he murmured, focusing his aim. "No need to thank me."

He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the figure in the head and he slumped to the ground. Joker removed the rifle from the ledge and began disassembling it as people began screaming and rushing over to the body. Joker sighed, blowing a kiss at the corpse. "Bye bye, Batsy," he murmured. "It was a good ride while it lasted."

He turned away. "Joker?" said a voice suddenly. A voice Joker recognized, although he thought his ears must be deceiving him.

"Batsy?" he gasped, whirling around.

Batman landed on the roof in front of him. "Are you a ghost?" gasped Joker.

"What? No," retorted Batman. "Of course not. Why would you think…"

"Because you're lying dead on the pavement," interrupted Joker. "Over there."

He pointed. Batman looked from the body back to Joker. "Uh…that's not me," he retorted. "Why would you think it…"

"Nygma wrote your secret identity on the roof of Wayne Tower," said Joker. "So I…shot you."

"You did what?" demanded Batman.

"I shot…then it wasn't…you're alive…oh, Batsy!" Joker cried, rushing to embrace him. "You ain't dead after all!"

"Don't hug me," muttered Batman, prying him off. "Why would you shoot an innocent man?"

"Well, it ain't the most horrible thing I've ever done, ya gotta admit," said Joker, shrugging.

"Why did you think he was me?" demanded Batman.

"Go over there and read for yourself," said Joker, nodding at the roof of the building opposite.

Batman sighed heavily at what he could only assume was some kind of joke on the part of the Joker, and grappled over to the roof of Wayne Tower. A message had been scrawled on the ground with green spraypaint: _Bryce Wagner is Batman_

Batman knelt down to examine the message, puzzled. On a closer inspection, he could see that it wasn't one message, but two. Riddler had obviously written _Bruce Wayne is Batman_, but someone had gone over it and replaced the letters with _Bryce Wagner_. Who had done it? And why? To protect him? He hated the thought that an innocent man had had to sacrifice his life for him.

What the World's Greatest Detective discovered later via the Batcomputer was that Bryce Wagner had been an employee at Wayne Enterprises. What he had not discovered was that Bryce Wagner was a disgruntled employee, a middle-management executive who thought he deserved better, and who also had a chronic smoking habit. He spent a lot of time on the roof inhaling cigarette after cigarette, feeling angry and resentful at his situation in life, although objectively, he wasn't a particularly skilled employee and probably didn't deserve a promotion. But Bryce Wagner thought of himself as a victim, a man with much more business potential than he was currently taking advantage of, a man destined for greatness, whom the bosses were keeping down because they were afraid of him. He resented Bruce Wayne most of all – Bryce Wagner had also lost his parents at an early age to crime in Gotham City, but all he had received as an inheritance was a broken down old car and a cockroach infested apartment, not Wayne Enterprises and a fortune. It wasn't fair. Bryce Wagner thought himself at least as smart and talented as Bruce Wayne, if not smarter and more talented. He deserved everything that Bruce had, and more.

So one day when Bryce Wagner was smoking on the roof and saw that some prankster or admirer had written _Bruce Wayne is Batman_ on the wall, he grew furious. There was no way that lazy slob was Batman. And he didn't deserve to be thought of as Batman by anyone. If somebody did deserve it, it was Bryce Wagner. He was the hero Gotham deserved, not that rich playboy. What if someone else came up here and saw that, and believed it? All those other simpering employees would worship Bruce more than they already did. No, he wasn't going to let it happen. A hero took a stand. And Bryce was taking a stand on this.

He was smiling as he spraypainted over the letters. He was smiling as he left work a few days afterward, and he was smiling right up until the bullet impacted with his skull. His death was instantaneous, but even if it hadn't been, Bryce Wagner would never have realized that his death as punishment for impersonating a hero was also the most heroic thing he had ever done. It had saved the lives of Bruce Wayne, Batman, and the Joker. And so he fulfilled his destiny of greatness, although not in the way he expected. But life was so much like a cruel joke sometimes, and this time the joke was on Bryce Wagner.

"Well…as you can see, that wasn't me," muttered Batman to Joker, returning to the rooftop. "I don't know why Nygma would have written…"

"Because he was bluffing all along, Bats," said Joker, waving his hand. "I mean, he thinks he's the smartest guy in the world, but nobody's as smart as he thinks he is, am I right? But he wanted revenge on me for putting him in the hospital, so he made up your secret identity, hoping that he'd be able to break me without me figuring out he was lying. But nobody tries to trick the Joker! When I get my hands on him, I'll…"

He trailed off. "Oh, wait, that's right. He may have already been cremated alive."

"What?!" demanded Batman, seizing him by the collar. "Where is he?!"

"Hey, he tried to ruin my favorite joke for me!" snapped Joker. "You can't say it wasn't deserved! But if you wanna check the oven to see if the Riddler roast is done yet, it's in the morgue on the corner of 3rd and Main."

Batman dropped Joker to the ground and instantly grappled off the roof. "Hey, Batsy!" shouted Joker after him, beaming. "I'll see you tomorrow night! Looking forward to it! Bye bye, buddy!"

Harley was surprised to hear the door of the hideout open to the sound of whistling. "Puddin'?" she said, surprised, as he entered the room, smiling broadly. "You ok?"

"Never been better in my life, Harley girl!" he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead.

"Did ya kill the Bat?" asked Harley, puzzled.

He grinned. "I did not, Harley girl," he said, hugging her close. "Not tonight. There's so much more laughter and fun to be had with him in the future. So many more jokes and games with my favorite punchline."

"I thought I was your favorite punchline," said Harley.

"You're my favorite punching bag, Harley," he corrected.

"Oh yeah," said Harley, nodding. "It's just great to see you so happy again, Mr. J!" she sighed, wrapping her arms around him.

"Well, you know what they say, Harley girl," he murmured. "Smile, and the world smiles with you. Cry, and you cry alone. Lie about Batman's secret identity, and you get roasted alive."

"Words to live by, puddin'," sighed Harley, embracing him and shutting her eyes with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

"Why have we become the messengers in this War of Words between Joker and Riddler?" sighed Jonathan Crane, as he once again tapped a sealed envelope against the door to Joker's hideout.

"Because we're the only ones neither of them will kill," retorted Tetch, leaning on the bell again. "Because they don't perceive us as a threat."

"That's rather insulting, you know," retorted Crane. "I think the two of us could easily destroy both Joker and Riddler if we chose to do so."

"Could, but wouldn't," agreed Tetch, nodding. "We both have a conscience, Jonathan. And we would never forgive ourselves for destroying a brilliant mind like Nygma's. I mean, it's nothing compared to ours, of course, but it would still be a regrettable loss."

"And Joker?" asked Crane.

Tetch shrugged. "He's not unintelligent. And his death would greatly upset Harley."

"Yes, there is that," sighed Crane. "Curse our honorable natures, Jervis."

"I would rather keep my sense of honor than live like an animal," retorted Tetch. "Like Batman."

The door flew open at that moment and Batman stood in the doorway. Or at least, it appeared to be Batman at first glance, but the figure suddenly ripped off its mask, revealing Harley's smiling face. "Hiya, boys, c'mon in," she said, holding open the door.

"Uh…Harley…why are you dressed as Batman?" asked Crane, puzzled, as they followed her inside the hideout.

"Oh, Mr. J and I are just playing a little game. Y'know," she said, winking.

"Er…no, I don't," said Crane, slowly. "And I'm not sure I want to."

"Ok, Harley, I'm ready for my beating now," said Joker, emerging from the bedroom and smiling. "And if you could try to do the voice, I…"

He trailed off when he saw Tetch and Crane staring from him to Harley. Then he laughed. "Harley, you little minx, you're wearing the wrong costume!" he exclaimed, turning to her and smiling. "Why doncha change back into your regular harlequin outfit?"

"You asked me to wear this, Mr. J," said Harley, puzzled.

"Harley, you little scamp, don't make up lies like that, or you'll get a spanking!" laughed Joker. "I didn't ask you to do anything of the kind."

"Yes, you did, puddin'…" she began.

"Just go change!" he snapped.

Harley hurried off. "So boys, got another message for me?" asked Joker, smiling. "Shame Batman got there in time to save Eddie from the jaws of death, but there's always tomorrow, am I right?"

"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Tetch, handing the envelope to him. "Should we wait for a response?"

"Nah, I prefer to deliver my responses in person, if ya know what I mean," chuckled Joker. "Bullet through the eye, that kinda thing! Why don't you two just go home? And forget that Harley was wearing that costume – the kid has a huge wardrobe, and she's easily confused. Not the brightest bulb in the shed. I say Harley Quinn, she hears Batman, go figure. See ya around!" he said, ushering them out and slamming the door.

He opened the envelope as Harley bounced back into the room in her usual costume. "You want me to beat ya a little to get ya in the mood, puddin'?" she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, but get back into the Batman costume," he muttered.

"What? But I just changed outta it!" she snapped.

"Well, change back into it!" he retorted. "I want a beating from Batsy!"

Harley sighed. "The things I do for love," she muttered, heading for the door. "What's the letter say?"

"'Obviously you're too stupid to figure out riddles, so I'll just tell you: Bruce Wayne is Batman,'" read Joker. Then he snorted. "Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna fall for that old joke again! Nice try, Nygma, but you can't just go around saying random people are Batman and then expect people to believe you. He's like the Boy Who Cried Wolf!"

"Yeah, Bruce Wayne?" laughed Harley. "The billionaire philanthropist and the brooding Batfreak? Don't make me laugh! Like a celebrity like him could hide being Batman! Eddie's just grasping at straws now, puddin'."

"Well, when I see him again, I'm gonna make sure the only way he can eat is through a straw, pumpkin pie," said Joker, patting her head. "And then he really will be grasping at them."

"Oh, Mr. J, you're such a funny guy," cooed Harley, nuzzling against him.

"Not as funny as Nygma this time, I gotta admit!" laughed Joker. "Bruce Wayne as Batman! It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life!"

He threw the letter into the trash and followed Harley back to the bedroom, laughing. "Quite the joke, really! Quite the joke."

**The End**


End file.
